The Adventures of Steamturret Willy
by uberbandit22
Summary: A version of Rapture from a bot's eyes. New plasids, areas, and anything else we can think of. Closed
1. Chapter 1: Preface

This author does not own the rights to Bioshock or to anything else related to it (that belongs to Systemshock). If I did create rapture, this is what it would be like.

Chapter One: Preface

Hello, if you are reading this I a) wonder how you survived this place and got this far, and b) if you actually have the time to sit down and read this, but none the less let us begin. I bet you are wondering who I am. Well, I am one of many, one of the fearless, one of the steam driven, I am... Steamturret Willy. Now mind you I am not a turret but a security bot. And yes, water can make allegiances and write memoirs. Now, shall we begin at the beginning? Well I was made by someone, built to shoot things, and have now broken free from the mindless drones of the security force. At the moment I am looking for someone to accompany me. It gets pretty boring, flying around mindlessly, and shooting at troublemakers. I swear if those kids try to tip over that vending machine again I'll pump so much lead in them they'll walk funny for a week, or never walk again...Not to mention how many people try to "hack" me. All those really do is impress us that you have retained basic motor skills and we feel that you at least were kind enough not to blow us up so we could help you. I have had fun shooting people while they are not expecting it in the least, like one time this one guy I was following had to use the bathroom so he just whipped it out like I wasn't there...great target practice. One time I shot a big daddy from right next to a guy and pretended I didn't do it, classic. There are a few that have separated like me but I don't know if they have been blown up yet. I do have a goal I suppose, to find where I was made. There must be a factory somewhere but I've never found it. I'll end up there eventually, I've got nothing but time down here. Well, that concludes this chapter, there is a big commotion going on, I think we just got some fresh meat.

Willy

* * *

So this is the story I promised. I made it quick eh? I got the idea from playing through bioshock myself allthough I haven't beaten it yet. I hope I get some readers and the only way I can tell is if you review. Readers can have an influence on this, if you have an idea for a new plasmid, weapon, or anything just either pm it to me or say it along with a review. I am also looking for a good beta, first come first serve.


	2. Chapter 2: Cooking Slim Jim

Sup people. Just wanna say that I in no way own Bioshock or any of the proper nouns it contains. I also do not own our guest appearance Slim Jims. Just thought I'd get that out there.

Chapter 2: Cooking Slim Jim

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5 days into this log and I can't believe I haven't told you about the turkey mafia. Yes, it is exactly what it sounds like. This was a horrible experiment gone wrong. Some genius decided that dancing turkeys would make a great commercial. He invented a plasmid and injected it into a few turkeys and tried to teach them to dance. Everything went fine until they got smarter. That was the first side effect. Next came the weird part. When they were executed and sold they didn't stay dead. This means invincible turkeys running amok. They haven't figured out how to reproduce the plasmid so there are only about four of them.

Now you may be asking "Willy, why is this important?" Or perhaps "Why do I care?" Well I'm getting to it so shut your trap and keep your pants on. Seriously, keep your pants on you perv. Coming back onto topic this mafia goes around just killing anyone they don't like, to a degree. They know not to take on big daddies. I don't know how well they will stitch themselves back together after a drill to the face. Or would it be breast? Nonetheless they are a force to be reckoned with.

I was reminded to talk about them from my chance encounter with one today. I call him Slim Jim now. I had picked up a flamethrower from a destroyed turret. I don't think Slim Jim ever saw a flamethrower before as he freaked out. Yes, I know you have another question. "How could you tell?" Well I think running around like a chicken with its head cut off qualifies as freaked out. I only had a little bit left in the tank so I decided to try to have a barbeque. Now he reminds of Slim Jims.

While the smell of the roasted turkey, yes steam can smell, was entertaining I have a new problem. The wrath of the turkey mafia is upon me. I have to find some way to appease them. If you can't quite wrap your head around why I'm in so much trouble let me put it this way. I have been listed by an invincible group of organized killers. The turkey part is irrelevant.

I don't think I can afford to be idle any longer. I have to pull my metaphorical turkey out of the oven. Pun intended.

Willy


End file.
